


Gay For God

by rachhell



Series: south park drabble bomb [8]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Denial, Dialogue Heavy, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prostitution, Roommates, South Park Drabble Bomb, but with a twist, choir boy butters, pastor craig/imp tweek, phone destroyer AU sorta, sex scandal, youth pastor craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachhell/pseuds/rachhell
Summary: Renown Christian author Pastor Craig Tucker's secret has finally been exposed.Written for the February 2018 South Park Drabble Bomb - day one, denial. Rated M for nsfw language and allusions to sexual activity, just to be safe.





	Gay For God

“Coming up after the break: A man of faith, and a scandal. Does well-known, anti-gay, Christian writer Pastor Craig Tucker have a secret? But first, Trevor Peterson with the weather. Trevor?”

Tweek yelped, tossing his phone onto the coffee table, his game of Candy Crush forgotten. Normally, the news was nothing but background noise, and he had no interest in the inanity that passed as breaking stories. But this… this was something else entirely. This was sweet, sweet vindication.

“AGH! Kenny! Kenny, get in here, you gotta see this!” He called out for his housemate, busy making a frozen pizza in the kitchen, to join him in the living room.

Kenny raised an eyebrow at the television, and then at Tweek. “Trevor Peterson, with the weather? How exciting.”

“No, man! They’re gonna show something after the commercials,” Tweek said, his shoulders wracking with a manic twitch.

Rolling his eyes, Kenny began to turn, as if to head back to the kitchen. “If it’s another dog on a snowboard, I swear-“

“No! Man, remember? Halloween, when. Agh. When I bet you twenty bucks that the guy-“

Kenny’s mouth opened into a wide, surprised grin, and he flopped down onto the sofa next to his roommate. “No way,”

“Yes way.”

Both stared at the television in wide-eyed, silent anticipation. The weather, and then the commercial break seemed to take forever, but Tweek didn’t even pick up his phone. He didn’t want to miss a second of this. As soon as the News At Nine theme song trumpeted from the speakers, both men shifted in their seats, Kenny letting out a scoffing chuckle as he propped his feet upon the coffee table, and Tweek sitting straight-backed, resting his chin in the heel of his hands in rapt attention.

“I’m Carrie Leonard,” the overly-made-up, middle-aged anchor on television stated.

“And I’m Jim Thompson, and you’re watching Channel Eleven News at Nine.”

“Tonight’s story, Pastor Craig Tucker, author of inspirational books including _Gay for God_ and _Open Your Heart To Salvation!,_ the latter of which spent five weeks on the New York Times Bestsellers list, was captured, by an anonymous source, leaving his downtown Denver condominium with a man who was later revealed to be a male escort.”

Upon the screen, a series of grainy pictures of a tall, dark-haired man in what was clearly a clerical shirt, complete with starched white collar, and a shorter, blond man flashed upon the screen. First, they were merely walking out of a building, hand-in-hand, but, on the third photo, they were leaning against the side of a black car. Specifically, the shorter blond was pressing the dark-haired man onto the car, not an inch of space between their bodies. Their lips were locked into a deep kiss, and the pastor’s hands were cupping the little blond man’s pert, bubble butt. Tweek screeched, joyously.

“Well fuck me running,” Kenny said.

Jim Thompson chuckled on-screen. “Open your heart to salvation? More like open your-”

“Let’s keep it PG-13 here, Jim.”

“Shut up, Carrie,” he said, flippantly, with a wide, white-toothed smile. Tweek wondered if those were his real teeth, or if that was his real hair, or if anything about Carrie Leonard was real at all, or if she was ninety-nine percent botox at this point.

“Ahh, thanks, Jim.” Carrie ruffled the stack of papers in front of her, casting a sidelong glare at her reporting partner. “Field reporter Bryn Rodgers had an opportunity to speak with the male escort in the photographs, who prefers to be known simply as ‘Butters.’ Bryn?”

“What, hng, what the fuck kind of name is Butters?” Tweek cried out. The television flashed to a young, smartly-dressed woman perched in a chair, microphone in hand. Across from her was the man from the photographs. He was a smiling, charismatic blue-eyed blond, dressed in a tight blue henley. He looked absolutely elated to be on television.

“Thanks, Carrie. Now, Butters. You were a former member of Pastor Craig’s Youth Choir, is that correct?” Bryn asked, extending the microphone toward the young man.

“Yeah… But that’s when I was real young. My parents put me in the choir,” said Butters, with a shrug.

“And, when he hired you? Did he, or you, realize that you had a past connection?”

“Aw, well, I dunno, he looked familiar I guess. That was back when I was just a kid. He was real young back then too, Pastor Craig... why, he’s just, say, eight or so years older than me. Honestly, I, I didn’t realize it was him until after we went out a couple times, and he didn’t even remember me from the choir, no ma’am.” Butters wrung his hands, and his smile faltered a little bit, like he was getting nervous about what he’d agreed to talk about on television. “He just booked me through my agency, I went to dinner with him, and he liked me, and I liked him, so I saw him a few more times.”

“So you’re saying your past together and his hiring of you as an escort was a coincidence?”

“Yes ma’am, total coincidence.”

Bryn set her mouth into a line. It was clear that she was disappointed that Butters’ story about the pastor wasn’t more salacious. “What was the pastor like?”

Butters raised his eyebrows, his smile returning. “Well, gee, he was just real sweet. Not a lot of men are that sweet. Pastor Craig, he never hurt me or nothin’ - he was always holdin’ open doors for me, givin’ me little presents… total gentleman. He’s real lonely, too, poor guy.”

“How about when you were a member of his choir? Did anything happen?”

“Oh! Golly, no! He never touched nobody back then.” He shook his head. “Just ‘cause the pastor might be gay, it doesn’t mean he’s a creep.

Bryn sighed. “Right, of course. So, you _do_ think the pastor is a homosexual?”

“Geez, I dunno. Lotsa guys get curious. Don’t mean he’s gay. But, well. It’s common, y’know? People like Pastor Craig. I see a lot of ‘em. Senators, preachers, teachers, CEOs… aw, oops.” Butters’ hand flew up to cover his mouth.

“Oh! Are you willing to go on record about those men?”

“Aw, geez, um, I shouldn’ta said _that._ ” He shook his head. “No, no. and I never woulda said anything about Pastor Craig if we weren’t caught. It ain’t nobody’s business. See, now, people pay me to spend time with ‘em. Craig’s just lonely, like I told ya, and needed a little company.”

“He’s fuckin’ hot,” Kenny muttered to Tweek, as the conversation continued on the news, “I’d let him keep me company any day.”

Tweek snorted out a laugh. “Not my type,” he said, “Too twinky.”

“Pastor Craig sure likes those twink blondes,” stated Kenny with a poke to Tweek’s shoulder.

Tweek shoved his hand away. “Shut up!” They turned their attention back to the screen, where Bryn Rodgers appeared to be one-hundred percent done with the interview.

“Butters, if you were to say anything to the pastor now, what would you say?”

“I’d tell him…. I’d tell him there’s no danger in bein’ yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, or even a little bi-curious, or anything like that. There’s no use denyin’ a part of you. God’ll still love ya.” He flashed a sweet, kindly grin at the screen.

“Thank you, Butters. This is Bryn Rodgers, with Channel Eleven News. Back to you, Carrie.”

Carrie’s face could have been surprised, but Tweek wasn’t sure if she could move her eyebrows. “Thanks, Bryn. Pastor Tucker, when asked about the photographs, denied that he was the man in the pictures, and denied knowledge of the entire event. Quote, ‘I have never seen that man before in my life. That picture doesn’t even look like me, what the word redacted, that isn’t me, get out of my word redacted face,’ end quote.”

“Sure looks like him, Carrie,” intoned Jim, with a nod toward his fellow newscaster.

“Sure does, Jim.” Carrie shifted her glance back to the television, and her lips turned up into something resembling a smile. “Next up, Flippy, the Backflipping Dog! Is he a contender for the 2020 Summer Olympics?”

Tweek let out a triumphant, “I told you so!”

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” groaned Kenny.

“ _HA_ ! Man, look! I, _hnnn,_ I told you so! I told you he was, that Pastor Craig was Grindr guy!”

“Oh my god,” Kenny repeated. He stood up for a moment, and fished his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Pay up, bitch. Twenty bucks!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Kenny glared at Tweek, clutching his open wallet close to his chest. “You… come on, dude. Halloween was like six months ago.”

“Twenty bucks, man.” Kenny sighed, and reluctantly handed a twenty to his roommate, who laughed, heartily, and pocketed it.

Kenny sat back down onto the sofa. “You should call the news,” he said, thoughtfully.

Tweek grimaced. He couldn’t imagine being in the place of the escort, being interviewed on screen. After all, _he_ wasn’t an escort, or anything. Theirs was just a one-night-stand, him and the pastor. He frowned, slightly, trying to brush the memory of his night with Pastor Craig out of his head, wishing that it hadn’t been at the forefront of his memory for a constant six months “The news!? I, I dunno, man, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“Dude, no. Do it, it’ll be fuckin’ _great._ Tell ‘em you fucked the pastor in your demon costume. On _Halloween,_ ” said Kenny, “How perfect is that, right?”

“Agh!” Tweek ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Tell ‘em he’s a fuckin’ bottom!” Kenny chortled, more to himself than to Tweek. He lowered his voice into a flat monotone, a poor imitation of Pastor Craig Tucker’s droning voice. “‘Aaaaaah, fuck me, fuck me with your demon coooooock _,_ ’” he said, pushing Tweek in the shoulder for emphasis with each word.

“Kenny, I’m not going to the news!” he exclaimed

“‘Open my ass to penetration,’” continued Kenny in that same voice. He’d shifted so that his own shoulder bumped up against Tweek, who shoved him onto the other side of the sofa.

“Ack! Man...”

Kenny shook his head, laughing. “Go _public,_ dude. They’ll pay you.”

“Don’t, don’t you think that the guy, ngh, that he’s been through enough?”

Kenny just laughed, again, and crawled over to Tweek’s side of the couch. He kept going in that stupid voice, started crawling onto Tweek, who yelped in surprise. “‘Mmmmmm you sexy, sexy little imp.’” He, jokingly, thrust his hips against Tweek’s side with an exaggerated humping motion. “‘Stick it in my good, Christian _butt_.’”

“Ahh, man, get the fuck off me!” Tweek said, and shoved him away once more, although, by this point, both men were giggling.

“I feel bad for the guy,” Kenny said, as soon as their laughter began to die down, “Imagine being that deep in the fuckin’ closet that you write a book called _Gay for God_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Tweek had conspicuously left out the part of the story where Pastor Craig, in their afterglow, clung to him, eyes watering with suppressed tears. He didn’t talk about how, when he left the Pastor’s condo, devil horns still perched upon his disheveled hair, Craig had said, in a small voice, _I wish I could see you again._ He never told Kenny that Craig had apologized. Tweek sighed. Flippy, the Backflipping Dog, on-screen, performed a backflip atop a balance beam, to uproarious applause.

“He’s almost as deep in the closet as you were in his-“

“Nnnnn shut up, Kenny!”


End file.
